November Rain
by EmbattledCurve
Summary: She longed for his touch, the velvety caress of his voice. She ached for him, she burned. But he was out of reach. An SSHG oneshot. Disregarding HBP.


**I've never written a SS-HG ship before, the reason has been that this particular pairing is quite difficult and if not written properly would be a disaster, and therefore I did not attempt to write one until now. This is not to say that this fic would be excellent, maybe even far from that, but I have finally summed up the courage to attempt this pairing and give it an honest try.**

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own any of this……….the great JK Rowling does, I'm just having fun.**

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She stared at him from beneath her eyelashes, a very pathetic attempt at trying to be covert. When she saw him, she did exactly that……..see _him_. Unlike everyone else, she saw him for exactly who he was, a man with exemplary courage, and one who carried along with it many scars and wounds which even time had failed to erase. Some poisons ran too deep and could never be cured, maybe that was what he represented to her. A poison, rich and dark, but she drank in him, drank in his very essence as though he were the very elixir. 

Beneath the façade that he put on, where his square jaw was tense and his aristocratic nose looked down upon her she knew that this man was an enigma, a complete mystery. Maybe that was where all her attraction towards him lay, the fact that he was not an open book which could be opened and it's pages perused at will. And that frustrated her, she longed to read him, discover him, for she was sure that he was a treasure lost to the world, but this particular book was firmly sealed.

But that did not stop her, it only served to attempt even more, and now she was not even making at attempt to hide the fact that he had caught not just her attention, but _her_. She wondered what it would be like if those taut facial muscles relaxed and actually turned tender, and she wondered what it would be like if that tenderness was directed towards her. But he did not care.

He did not attempt to hide his barely concealed irritation towards her. To him she represented just another Gryffindor know-it-all, after all he had had to contend with Percy had'nt he? But she longed for him to see beyond her bookish knowledge, beyond her obsessiveness to play by the rules and just look at _her,_ and acknowledge her for who she was- a woman.

His thirst for knowledge was another facet of his mysterious demeanor that some would call personality, that fascinated her. The man was knowledge itself, and not many were aware how truly priviledged they were to be under his tutelage. Well sure he wascompletely biased towards his own house, but then the Gryffindor's never complained when McGonagall had locked horns with Umbridge back in their fifth year, so that the Quidditch team could be formed.

The man ran deep, and she was sure that she had not even scratched the surface. In all honesty the man was an ice-berg and maybe even so literally. With his snarls and scowls permanently fixed onto his face he had managed to freeze out everyone- but she refused to be one among them. She wanted to thaw him out, and the thought sent shivers down her spine, the anticipation of what she might find was making her tingle with electricity. When it came to him, she lost all reason- she did not give a damn that he was her Professor or that it would not be socially acceptable. She was past caring and common sense when it came to this man.

Mechanically adding her ingredients in the cauldron, as she set it to simmer, she watched him once more. She admired the fluid grace with which he carried himself. His lean body moved with the lithe ability which was very reminiscent of a panther. He was still young, and the thought that he might be attending another of Voldemort's beckonings that night, and risk his life once more turned her blood cold.

At that precise moment he turned from across the room, and their eyes locked. She felt a frisson of attraction that was tugging her towards him. His coal black eyes glittered, that was the only emotion he permitted himself to show, before they hardened and he turned away. Oh he knew alright. She would not insult his intelligence by actually deluding herself into believing that she had managed to keep her blinding interest in him a secret- from others maybe but not from him.

But she had never wanted to keep it a secret from him, she longed for every Potion's class, and in each class she made pathetic attempts at trying to catch his attention. She threw in the minced roots of Neumball in frustration. Why did he have to make it so hard for her? Why could'nt he for once in his life stop denying and pretending and open the doors and let her in?

But he stayed as far away from her as the dimensions of the class room would let him. He never acknowledged her presence, except for when he returned her parchments with her grade scrawled across it, there were never any comments- none at all, not even "Improve your handwriting" or "Could have been better". And that made it so impersonal. She felt her chest constricting and her breathing becoming laboured. She ached for him, why could'nt he see it?

Finally the bell chimed, and it was time for them to leave, time flied when you never wanted the moment to end. Just as she was about to pack up and leave, and she tried delaying it as much as she could, she heard his voice say harshly "Stay back Miss Granger".

Her heart raced and her pulse quickened. This was the first time he had actually addressed her in all these past months when she had made it perfectly clear what she wanted. She walked upto him slowly and said softly "Yes Professor."

"I know you find Potions fascinating Miss Granger but I did not know that your fascination extended to your Potions Master as well" he said bitingly.

There, it was finally out. What had never been acknowledged by them. She looked at him, willing him to see beyond all his prejudices.

"Do you have any reasonable explanation Miss Granger for your stupid behaviour, which you continue even now by staring at my face?" he said scathingly.

Looking into his eyes, she said "I have an explanation yes, reasonable no."

"Do you want to hear it?"

His jaw tightened and his face hardened. His rigid stance was not in any way encouraging, but she ploughed on nonetheless.

"Yes, I'm fascinated by you. You are a man of deep mystery but that is not what attracts me. No, it's much more than that. To me you are an intoxication, one I cannot do without. Everything about you intrigues me. The way the light bounces off the planes off your face, the way you resolve yourself with steely determination and face each day ahead without thinking of the past, for if you do, you would drown. You are like an addiction, your knowledge astounds me, your strength beyond courage exemplifies your character as one of the strongest individuals I have known. Your intellect lights a spark within me, as do you, for when I cast my eyes on you, a light hits the gloom. I see beyond what you want everyone to percieve, I see _you._ A man who's doing his damned best to gather the fragmented pieces of his life and move on, alone."

Taking a deep breath and refusing to be intimidated by his towering height she completed "I want to be by you, every moment, day and night."

Silence descended between them, so deafening that it momentarily obliterated her mind, and she was overcome by a sheer sense of panic.

The silence was broken by his harsh intake of breath. And then the façade broke, and the toll that the years had taken on him could be seen clearly etched on his face.

"Are you insane?" But his ragged and irregular breathing did not scare her, on the other hand she stood transfixed watching his chest move rythmically.

"Miss Granger do you have any idea what it would do to you, if any of this ridiculous nonsense left the classroom?" He was doing his best to knock some sense into her.

"Yes" she said softly, and after a pause added "But it does'nt change anything."

He let out a sigh of frustration and ran his hand through his hair furiously. The child had no idea what she was muttering. Maybe she was ill, yes that had to be it. The rational explanation to all this rubbish. He let out a derisive laugh. She was so young, she had her whole life in front of her, and she was willing to throw it all away, just because in the deliriousness of the fever that was raging through her, he had caught her fancy.

"Miss Granger, I'm going to give you a note to hand in to Madame Pomfrey, maybe you have a fever, or maybe you are suffering from too much stress, NEWTS can do that to students at times." He was trying to rationalize it all, but a part of him told him that there were some things in life which could not be accounted for- this was one of them.

"I believe my condition is called love."

He froze. Here was an eighteen year old child, standing on his dungeon floor and telling him that she loved him! She was being extremely foolish, and she obviously did not know what inane nonsense she was muttering. Whatever it was, he had to put an end to it at once.

"Miss Granger, whatever fantasies you're indulging will remain exactly that. I do not have time for such childish notions. You are nothing but a pesky brat, who thankfully I will not have to endure beyond this year, so do me a favour and do not try to make it very memorable. Now get out." There, he had done it. Frozen himself behind the icy barricade he had errected around himself years ago- and he had frozen her out.

Wordlessly, she picked up her bag and left. Well what had she expected? Declarations of undying love in return? As she walked out, she could hear the rain pounding senselessly outside, and she walked out onto the gravel and let the rain pound her instead. Her footsteps left indelible markings, it was a damn cold night, but her heart felt even colder. She longed for him to take her by the hand and take her somewhere new, but she had been out of her mind to even hope that he would respond to her and throw open the doors to his very soul.

For the first time, she felt despair. She had offered him her heart, but he had torn it apart. She felt numb- comfortably numb though. As the rain washed over her, and her hair remained plastered to her, she could feel the chill seeping into her body, to her very bones. But she welcomed it, she wanted it, needed it. The biting wind around her was nothing compared to the pain in her chest. She was trying to kill the pain, in the November rain.

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**Please leave behind a review and let me know what you honestly think. All comments are appreciated.**


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